February and March - Part 2

This chapter (though I'm sure several of you are awaiting stories of my spring break in Spain) is all about the end of February and March - part 2 to the last update (better late than never, right?!). Enjoy!! :)

Discover Oman trip to Masirah Island with High School Students
There are three main reasons that I chose to move to this international school in Oman and not another school that offered me positions: 1) there are teachers who meet weekly to play Ultimate Frisbee; 2) the student population at this school is truly international - there are very few Omani residents at my school, and only about 1/2 the population have U.S. passports; and, 3) this school has an outdoor experiential education program with a goal of encouraging students to take healthy risks to stretch their comfort zones, and interact with local people and communities to learn about the country where they live. That program is called Discover Oman. Each school year the students in every grade spend a week getting out and "discovering" Oman. In elementary school, the students go on day trips around Muscat and surrounding areas. In middle and high school, the students spend 4-5 days out camping in different locations around the country, hiking, biking, swimming, kayaking, snorkeling, camel-riding, and bus-riding. Each year their options are different and they are not allowed to go on the same trip twice.

The trip that I chaperoned was one to Masirah Island; there were 16 high school students from all grades, 2 school chaperones, 2 guides from an Omani touring company, 2 drivers, a bus, and a truck filled with our bikes. If you remember my stories about Masirah Island from past emails, you may recall that to set foot on Masirah, it is necessary to ride a ferry to the island. You may also remember that there is no organized method to board the ferry. Well, because of this, and because we were such a large fleet, it took us nearly 2 full days just to arrive to the island.

Night number one was spent on a beach on the mainland. The guys from the Omani touring company set up two large tents: one for boys, one for girls. After setting up camp, they prepared dinner, which consisted of grilled meat, bread and hommus. There was a campfire going for most of the night, and Rashid (one of the Omani guides) taught me how to write my name in Arabic. Ray (the other chaperone) and I slept on cots that Ray brought along. We woke up early on day two to try to catch the first ferry across to Masirah. We broke camp quickly and we made it to the pier as the first ones in line to board the next ferry, whenever it might show up. Ferry #1 came, and so did about 30 cars, that all cut in front of us to make their way across. Frustrating. After waiting for several more hours at the ferry pier, kicking around a soccer ball, singing along to the contraband music that the students brought along, and snacking on anything that anyone would share, we finally managed to board a ferry. Even then, though, the space was limited and we had to squeeze to all fit.

We got to the island around 3pm and headed straight for lunch at a restaurant. That was the beginning of the Omani cuisine that we would experience each day for the rest of our trip: biryani rice served on a large metal serving tray, topped with chicken or fish. Everyone sits in circles on the floor with plastic covering the space in front of us. Then we all lean over the tray of rice and dig in with our right hands (no untensils, no left hands), balling up the rice, peeling the meat from the bones, and mixing in hot sauce as we saw fit. The Omanis even taught us a technique to balling the rice that helps in getting it to your mouth, so that you don't end the meal with rice all over your face, clothes and lap (I never actually mastered that technique...). The food was just what we needed to clear our minds of any frustrations we might have been feeling about the long wait to get to the island. After eating, we piled back into the bus and drove to the southern tip of the island to find our camping spot for the rest of the week. Once camp was set up, we bathed in the ocean and built a campfire after dinner.

Day 3 on Masirah: our first official bike ride. We woke early and headed off down the road atop our bicycles, with plenty of water and tools packed on our backs. That day I ended up sticking with the students in the back of the line, and we rode about 25km total. We would have gone farther, but we had to be back for a lunch date. We had been invited by an Omani family to eat lunch at their home in the town at the northern end of the island.

The time that I spent with the bedouin family on Masirah has been the most exciting cultural exchange I've experienced since being in Oman. Upon arriving to their home, we received a warm welcome and were immediately divided into groups of males and females; the boys stayed on the rugs in the main room, the girls were led by the women in the group into a smaller room toward the back of the house where we sat in a circle on a rug. There was little to no furniture in the rooms, and the walls were nearly bare. The Omanis instead sat on Arabic rugs that covered the tile floors.

The conversation was slow - only a few of the women spoke some English, and none of us knew enough Arabic to maintain any type of interesting dialogue. Despite whether they knew English or not, the bedouin women were all talkative, eager to ask questions and to introduce themselves and their culture. They encouraged us to try unknown-to-us powders on our faces, charcoal on our eyes, and perfumes on our wrists. Their endless energy - and their eyes - swallowed me into a world of delight.

We ate lunch around trays of homemade rice topped with chicken, goat, and fish, followed by 2 or 3 dates for desert. After eating, we washed our hands in their outdoor spigot, then the women herded all of the ladies back into the back room, where they began applying henna to our hands and arms, dressed us in traditional Bedouin clothing, encouraged us to try on their burqas (masks) and charcoaled our eyes. The boys eventually got bored in the front room and came in to join us. The Bedouin children either crawled over our laps or stared at us from a distance, and at one point a few of them even began dancing to the traditional tunes played on the cell phones belonging to the adults in the room. The mother of the household was constantly at my side, reassuring herself that I was enjoying myself and speaking to me in Arabic as though I understood everything that she said. I was in heaven! After a couple of hours of this, we started signaling that we would need to be leaving soon. I tried to remove my Bedouin costume, but instead was told that it was a gift and that I should wear it proudly to remember them and my experiences with them in their home. I was honored. Before leaving, they held burning frankincense under my dress, letting the smells penetrate my clothing and skin; their version of deodorant. The clothes, now in my closet, still smell like frankincense. We were invited back the next day for dessert after dinner.

Day 4 on Masirah: Bike ride #2. This time we had time to go further, but we also started much later than the day before, so the heat posed a problem. We biked about 20km along the road in the opposite direction than the day before, looking for any type of shade we could find to rest under. No luck. On the way back, we took a quick stop on a beach at the end of a road, to rest and collect shells. This time I got to ride at the front of the group - much more my style of riding. :) It was exhilarating to ride as hard as I could, with the slight breeze evaporating any sweat from my body. Upon arrival to camp, we collapsed outside of a tent, in the shade, and waited as patiently as our hungry stomachs would let us, for lunch.

That afternoon Ray and I invited the students to go snorkeling - the water was crystal clear - and I would be following in the kayak. Only about 6 of the 16 mustered the energy to come along, so we headed out. The water felt wonderful with the afternoon sun beaming down. The students swam around and dove down to see corals, sea urchins and fish. Ray caught sight of a lobster hiding under a rock, so when it was my turn to swim instead of kayak, I went down to see it. All I could see was its long antennae sticking out. We continued snorkeling around, with Ray becoming more and more interested in that lobster. Finally he went to shore, hiked to his truck, and came back with a lobster-hook. Ray is an avid fisherman - he goes out nearly every weekend to some far-off beach to spend the days in his kayak with his fishing gear. He has crazy stories of being dragged for several kilometers by giant fish, and of being amongst schools of dolphins and whales. So when he went to get the hook, I knew to take him seriously.

By this time, the students had lost interest so it was just me in the kayak, and him with his mask, fins and hook, ready to catch a lobster. The first step was to find the right rock again - we had lost track of it in the time that he was getting his gear. Once we found it, Ray went down to try to hook the lobster and drag it from its hole. The lobster held his ground and would not be taken without a fight. Finally, on try number 4, Ray managed to free the lobster from his cover and bring him up to the kayak. It was beautiful! The colors seemed magical and the animal was huge. We figured out then that it wasn't actually a lobster but a painted crayfish (it didn't have the claws). With the creature safely in the back of the kayak, I paddled it to shore, and we packed it in ice in the cooler and the kayak back on the top of Ray's vehicle.

As this was our last night on the island, and we needed to catch the ferry early the next morning, we broke camp that evening and headed into town, to a hotel, before dinner. We ate some shwarma sandwiches for dinner, then headed back to the Bedouin family's home for dessert. Upon arrival, the women took a few of us ladies into the kitchen where we got to witness the preparation of the dessert: a floury paste with rose water, oil, saffron and sugar (amongst other things). Though still hot from the stove, we all ate the paste with our fingers, dipping them into the bowl one after another. We all remained outside in the yard during this visit, but the women were on one rug and the men on another. Conversations flourished and phone numbers were exchanged. I was encouraged to visit again soon, and we all left cheerful and exhausted. I slept well in the air conditioned hotel room.

The journey home was uneventful - the hotel owner had a connection with one of the ferry companies and reserved us space on the first one heading toward mainland. The highlight of the trip home was that there was a truck with 2 young camels in the back that we got to interact with during the ride on the ferry. We were home by 4pm, and I rode my bike from school, across the wadi, with all of my camping gear on my back and with the crayfish hanging over my handle bars.

That weekend I went with Miguel and Sarah to a beach called White Beach (near Wadi Tiwi and Wadi Shab, which I have mentioned in previous posts) where we camped on Thursday night. It was relaxing to be on the beach and to read undisturbed for as long as we wanted. Luckily come Saturday, we had a day off and Sunday was an inservice day. The three-day weekend was much-needed after an amazing, but draining, week away with the students.

James Blunt Concert & Canadian Stampede
While living in the Twin Cities and Madison, I took for granted the ability to see live music regularly, and that is one of the things I miss most since being here in Oman. So when the opportunity arose to see a live concert, I had to take advantage, even if I only knew one song by this particular artist, and he wasn't someone I necessarily cared for as a musician.

James Blunt coming to Muscat ended up being a big deal in the expatriate community. Most of my colleagues went to the show, and the audience itself was majority white people. Alcohol was served (which, as a reminder, is not common here - granted we were on hotel property) - you could buy buckets full of beer and ice, and some people brought their own wine. The gates opened at 6pm, but the show didn't start till 9pm (luckily I didn't get there till just after 7pm).

I turned out being impressed by James' performance - he was energetic, jumping around the stage and through the crowd, and he enthusiastically included the crowd in several of his songs. The crowd, too, the more intoxicated they became, showed their carefree enthusiasm in many different ways: singing, dancing, shouting... Then, come 10pm, James announced his closing song. "What! I paid nearly $40 to see this show, waited for 2 hours for it to start, and he is only going to play one set for one hour?!" (-thoughts going through my head). He played a 3 song encore, but that was it. I went home with mixed feelings; I was glad to have seen live music, to have danced with a jubilant crowd, but it didn't seem long enough - I had only started getting my feet wet.

The next big expatriate event, that had been talked up all school year by all of my colleagues, was the Canadian Stampede: a party hosted by a Canadian organization each year - this being the 16th year it has existed. This cowboy themed party includes a dinner of grilled chicken, chili and corn on the cob, an inexpensive bar open until 2am, a D.J. and line dancing lessons. Considering I am not an avid drinker or partier, I had my doubts on how much I'd enjoy myself at this supposedly-phenomenal party, but I was not let down. My favorite colleagues were all there, everyone was dancing, and I didn't stop moving until 2am when Lydia, the d.d. for the night, led me and our friend to her car. It was invigorating to be with great people with no qualms about moving to the beat of whatever the song happened to be. I love dancing.


And that brings me to the end of this long-overdue chapter in my ongoing novel that is my experience in Oman. The next chapter will be dedicated to my time in Spain, for spring break. I'll start working on it now, so that it gets posted before I end up being home for the summer!

Quick reflection on this posting: Finally writing about my experiences with the Bedouin family on Masirah reminded me about the reasons I chose to live overseas. I thrive on learning through experiences, as I believe most people do. I believe that experiential education should be at the center of our educational experiences, and I hope to develop that more and more into my curriculum as I learn to be a better educator.

I send my love and hugs to you all, and hope you're enjoying the spring. Spring here means it's getting too hot to be outside between the hours of 10am and 5pm. (Come summer, it will be too hot to ever be outside.) I'd love to hear updates whenever you get the chance to write. Until then, take care!